


the abyssian prince

by chininiris



Series: yuriashe week 2020 [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Background Relationships, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Cindered Shadows DLC Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, M/M, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Twilight Princess AU, YuriAshe Week (Fire Emblem), YuriAshe Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chininiris/pseuds/chininiris
Summary: A short figure stands there, smaller than a child, with pointed ears and long, thin arms. Its body is colored in shades of grey and marked with the same sigils he’d seen on that strange wall. Cat-like eyes gleam lavender in the dim light provided by torches down the hall, purple hair of the same shade tied in a messy, choppy ponytail. Ashe instinctively recoils away from it.“Look at you,” it muses in an impish voice, “all scared already. Does the dark frighten you?”or: a Twilight Princess + Three Houses fusion AUFor YuriAshe Week: Day Six:light/shadow& makeup
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & My Unit | Byleth, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Series: yuriashe week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920853
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: YURIASHE WEEK 2020





	1. i: sunset

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this whole fic to [Mari](https://twitter.com/Blaiddyd_queso) and [Carl](https://twitter.com/thestarchasr), whose shitposts at its expense brought me many smiles and lifted my mood when I was down.
> 
> For [Yuriashe Week](https://twitter.com/yuriasheweek)

Remire is a little village set at the foot of a mountain chain, a quiet little place where Ashe and his siblings have lived for the past twelve years, surrounded by tall trees that turn gold and red as the warm weather transitions into winter. Hidden amidst the trees is a large spring where he likes to play with his younger brother and sister on the warmer days, and a stream is located just outside the village limits to provide its residents with fish and fresh water. 

That’s where he can be found as twilight falls over the land, hooking bait and casting his line to catch fish for dinner, humming under his breath as his companion tends to her own catch. Byleth deftly unhooks the fish from her rod and puts it in the basket placed between them. 

“Are you excited to go?” She gives him a small smile as she prepares another bait, and he nods eagerly with a bright smile of his own. He’s been looking forward to this trip since Jeralt brought it up moons ago. “Good. You’ve never been to Fhirdiad, right?” 

“No, I haven’t.” He shakes his head, watching the bobber swaying gently on the cool waters of the stream. His father said he would take him there when younger, too many years ago, but the chance never arose.

“You’ll like it there. Fhirdiad is much bigger than Remire.” She nudges his arm gently with her elbow after casting her line. “There’s this big castle and so many knights, like in the books you like to read. Oh, and there’s the King, too. We’ll get to meet with him briefly. If we’re lucky, he might even invite us to stay for tea.” 

Ashe turns away from her to stare unseeingly at his bobber as giddiness wells up in him, barely refraining himself from wiggling in place. A castle, and knights, and an actual king! He’s always wanted to see the things he reads about, the honorable knights, the beautiful castles, the just and kind king. Catching a wink of sleep until their departure will be so hard. He feels like he’s ten years old all over again! 

Byleth chuckles and ruffles his hair, her eyes creasing in the corners. “Look at you, so excited that you missed your catch.” Ashe snaps out of his daydream and scrambles to pull back his line, but it’s too late, the bait gone from his hook. She gives him a gentle, consoling pat on the shoulder and retrieves her line as well. “Come on, we need to rest so tomorrow we can pack up and prepare for the trip.” 

He offers to carry the basket of fish, proud of the amount they managed to catch, and together they trek back to Remire village. Torches have been lightened up to guide the way in the approaching dark, and they navigate through the trails of beaten earth towards a house placed in the very back of the village, passing by crops of pumpkins and other vegetables that they are cultivating in preparation for the coming winter.

Byleth pushes open the door with her hip and strides into their modest home, setting the fishing supplies in the corner where they belong. Ashe’s younger siblings lift their gazes away from their sewing to greet them, quickly turning their attention back to the needle and thread. 

In the small kitchen area, Jeralt looks up from where he’s peeling potatoes and carrots. A large pot is simmering on the wood stove. “Good, you’re back.”

Ashe walks over to him to deposit the basket of fish on the counter, and Jeralt hums. “These will make enough stew to last a few days.”

“Ashe is much better at fishing now than he used to be.” Byleth reaches up to ruffle his hair. There was a time when he was much shorter than her, when hooking bait was hard and he could barely hold up a sword. “Why don’t you go wash up while we prepare dinner?” 

Normally, he would insist on helping with the food while she bathed, but he’s worked for so long today on the forge of the family’s blacksmith shop that he is feeling a little too itchy, so he accepts. In the small bathroom, he finds that Jeralt has already filled the tub with hot water, lukewarm from the bath his siblings took earlier.

They owe a lot to the Eisners, who kindly took them in after their parents passed away from an illness. They were given clothes and food and a roof over their heads, and were taught over the years how to provide for and defend themselves. 

Both father and daughter are great fighters, though Ashe has no talent when it comes to wielding a sword. Byleth has taught him how to use a bow regardless, which comes in handy when Ashe needs to hunt pheasants and other animals for their meals or village festivals, and he much prefers the lance lessons Jeralt gives every few days. 

Once done with his bath, Ashe dries himself and dresses in his nightclothes, exiting the bathroom to find that the stew is almost done. Alec is setting the table, and Alice is stirring the pot over the fire while Byleth slices a loaf of bread. Jeralt emerges from the backroom to carry the pot over to the table, and they all take their places around the table for another meal. 

As he’d predicted, sleeping that night is nearly impossible. After making sure that his siblings were settled in for the night, Byleth approaches him with a cup of chamomile tea and tries to comb his wild hair into a tamed state. It’s no use; the curls will settle down during the night and look presentable come morning.

She clicks her tongue with a shake of her head. “If you sleep now, time will pass by faster.” Stretching, Byleth yawns and walks to the door of the room he shares with his siblings. “Good night.” 

A quiet chorus is her answer, and the room is engulfed in darkness when she closes the door behind her back.

* * *

Ashe can hardly stay still as they pack their saddlebags up in preparation for the journey. His hands are shaking with excitement as he slips dried jerky and non perishable foods into leather pouches for meals on the road. 

Across the table, Jeralt is inspecting the sword that is to be given to the Royal Family, flicking his thumb on its edge to test the sharpness. “Relax, kid. Fhirdiad isn’t going anywhere.” 

“S-Sorry,” he ducks his head, cheeks burning in embarrassment, and Jeralt laughs heartily. 

“No need to be sorry, kid. Byleth was just as excited as you when she had to visit Fhirdiad for the first time on her own.” He frowns at the sword. “Maybe too excited.”

Ashe looks around the room to confirm they’re alone. His siblings are out gardening, and Byleth is checking on the horses to make sure they are ready for the trip. “She was? But she always looks so put together.” 

“Oh yeah, she was. And she does.” He grumbles unintelligibly, probably about how Byleth has a better poker face than he does - than they all do. She always wins every card game they try to play at night. “I didn’t think a young woman like that would get excited at the prospect of a trip to the big city, but... Well, big cities are fantastic for folks like us who live in little villages in the country. Just stick to her side, yeah? Don’t go wandering off on your own.”

Ashe nods. “Yes, of course.” 

“And make sure she takes no detours,” Jeralt instructs, sheathing the blade with a frown. “Damn girl always takes too long to come back home.”

That is true. The trip to and from Fhirdiad is a long one, but Byleth arrives in Remire way past the estimated time every year. Ashe supposes it’s because she took much from Jeralt, namely the drinking and gambling habits, for it isn’t uncommon for her to return with the coin pouch empty every time. But she brings gifts, like books that can’t be found around here, so he can’t find it in himself to be too bothered by her lateness. 

A shout from outside reaches their ears, but they dismiss it as one of the village kids playing around. That is, until it gets louder and more frequent, _urgent_ , and soon a commotion escalates outside in seconds. 

Jeralt stands up with a grumble, leaving the sword on the table. “What is this about?” He opens the door, and though Ashe can’t see his face, he hears the curse that Jeralt speaks under his breath. “Damn bandits!”

“W-What?” Bandits? Ashe is on his feet quickly, but Jeralt has already grabbed the nearest lance and left the house in a blur. He rushes to the door to see it for himself, spotting many strangers trying to break into homes and scruffing with villagers to take their belongings. 

For a minute, Ashe can only watch in terror as their little village is torn apart by bandits, fear gripping at his throat, the looming panic descending upon him at the very idea of losing yet another home. He stomps it down upon seeing a flash of blue, Byleth taking on the bandits barehanded like the fighter that she is, and he grabs his hunting bow before joining the fray. 

He’s not going to sit idly and watch as his home is torn apart. He’s an adult, he was taught how to fight. He will defend Remire and its people, his family.

Ashe finds a secure place that’s high enough to overlook the village and takes aim, turning his arrow to a group of bandits that are stealing from a local shop. It cuts through the air and embeds itself in one’s shoulder, forcing the man to drop his weapon with a shout. Ashe fumbles to nock the next arrow, nearly dropping it twice; he’d never turned his weapon to a human before, and he didn’t think he’d ever do so while still in Remire Village, if ever. Biting his cheek, he sends it flying, piercing a woman on the thigh. He isn’t killing them, so it should be fine, right? He’s just protecting his home. 

A piercing scream reaches his ears, his heart rate increasing at the familiar voice. In the distance, he sees a man as tall as he’s large, wild brown hair tied in a messy ponytail, carrying his two siblings away, one slung over each shoulder carelessly. “Alice! Alec!” 

His shouts reach Byleth’s ears, who turns in the direction he’d been looking at and cuts her way through the commotion of violent bandits and panicked villagers. Ashe nearly falls in his haste to climb down from his perch, grabbing a discarded lance along the way to bat off anyone who tries to stop him. 

He’s not- he’s not going to lose what’s left of his family! He’s already lost his parents, he’s not going to lose his siblings, too! Ashe whacks a bandit on the face with the lance, disorienting the stranger just enough to slip past them and continue towards the path that leads into the forest. He thinks he hears Jeralt calling his name, but he isn’t sure, already too far from the ruckus to hear anything past the buzzing in his ears and the clash of weapons. 

Lungs burning, Ashe sprints through the woods, following the fresh footprints left on the soft, leaf covered ground. The sounds of the spring seem distant to him as he rushes right past it, eyes set on the distant form of Byleth pursuing the man.

He’s approaching a maze of hidden paths that cuts through the Oghma Mountains. If they make it past the entrance before he catches up, Ashe will lose them for good. He forces his feet to push him forward faster, throat hurting from pushing his body past its limits, refusing to let his legs give out under his own weight until he finds all of his siblings. 

The trees stop abruptly as he reaches the foot of the mountain, and Ashe skids to a stop when he catches sight of the dropped items at the entrance of the path. A hairband that belongs to his sister, and a gold medallion Byleth carries around her neck. Ashe staggers into the path, fighting to catch his breath, and slows to a stop when he finds the trail obstructed by a large black wall. 

Using the lance for support, Ashe approaches the wall warily, eyes sweeping over the sigils in glowing purple. This wasn’t here before; he’d have heard of this. Is this the work of the bandits? Do they have mages in their group? Can he make it past it?

Ashe moves a little closer, slowly lifting a hand to touch the wall and gauge if it’s solid. It explodes upon contact and dissolves into a shroud. A shrill laughter fills his ears as he inhales the black smoke and falls to his knees, choking and fighting to fill his lungs with fresh air. Something squeezes the back of his neck hard until he’s faint in the head before abruptly letting go. Ashe tries to lift himself up, but his whole body is screaming in pain as he writhes on the ground. 

There’s a sudden warmth that fills his body, easing the pain. Dark shadows approaching are the last thing he sees.

* * *

He wakes up an indefinite amount of time later, jerking from where he’d been lying on the cold stone floor. A dungeon, by the looks of it. Not that he knows what one looks like, but he’s read about them plenty. Metal bars, stone walls, chains.

Something is shackled around his wrist. Ashe looks down and sees- _a_ _paw?_ Yelping, he tries to get away, fearing that the animal in the cell will try to attack him, but he tumbles more than he jumps away, finding that his weight is oddly distributed. It’s only when the shackle tugs and keeps him from going too far from the center of the cell that he notices that this paw is, somehow, his own. 

As he’s staring at it in immense confusion, a low chuckle draws his attention to one of the corners of the cell. A short figure stands there, smaller than a child, with pointed ears and long, thin arms. Its body is colored in shades of grey and marked with the same sigils he’d seen on that strange wall. Cat-like eyes gleam lavender in the dim light provided by torches down the hall, purple hair of the same shade tied in a messy, choppy ponytail. Ashe instinctively recoils away from it. 

“Look at you,” it muses in an impish voice, “all scared already. Does the dark frighten you?” Ashe makes to reply, but all that leaves him is a noise much too similar to a growl. _Just what is going on with him?_ “Oh, are you sure you should be growling at me? I’m the only one who can get you out of here, you know.” 

Ashe lowers his head, hyper aware of the snout in his face. Is this some curse? Had he been transformed by the mages? 

“That’s much better.” The creature hums, landing in front of him where Ashe can see it better. He’s never seen anything like it before. Is it some sort of animal? “I’d rather it’d been your friend here, but you’ll have to do.” Friend? Does it mean Byleth? Does it know where she and his siblings are? “Hold still.”

The little creature recites words under its breath and gathers energy in its fingertips, zapping a magic spell towards the chain keeping Ashe bound to the middle of the cell. The metal splits clean in half, and he jumps away in surprise, what’s left of the shackle around his paw rattling loudly in the room.

With a laugh, the creature jumps backwards, passing through the metal bars like it’s nothing more than a shadow. “I bet you’re wondering, where exactly are we? Where are my friends? Well, let’s make a deal, little guy. If you can get out of there, maybe I’ll tell you what I know.” 

Ashe struggles to stand, unused to this new form his body has taken, and looks around for an alternate exit. A couple of crates on the corner hide a patch of uncovered dirt, and he uses his newly given paws to dig his way to the other side of the cell. Shaking his body to get rid of the dirt clinging to him, he finds the imp nowhere in sight. Did it leave?

It drops on his back with a laugh and no previous warning, scaring him so badly that Ashe jumps around as instinct kicks in to shake it off. The creature holds tight to his fur, still cackling. “You’re not completely stupid and helpless, after all. Maybe you can be useful.” 

Ashe wants to argue. He’s not stupid and helpless; he provided for his siblings the best way he could until they were found, he’s helped around the village and the Eisners’ blacksmith shop for years, he can tackle goats when they escape if needed. Maybe he’s not strong the same way Jeralt and Byleth are, but he’s fast and smart and resourceful - but he can’t say any of that in return.

“Listen, I like you.” The creature goes on, lounging lazily on his back. “So I’ll get you out of here.” Then, it tugs sharply on Ashe’s ear, making his lips pull back in pain. “But you’ll have to do _exactly_ as I say.”

Ashe agrees, if only because he doesn’t have much choice. He was taught not to trust strangers, but he will have to place his trust upon this weird creature that claims to know where they are. Maybe Ashe can stay until they’re out of wherever this is, and then he can make a run for it. But then what? How does he get his body back? Does it know how?

So he ventures through the dungeon, paddling his way through the sewers and jumping onto precarious broken staircases until he finds an exit to the roof. The winds are harsh and the sky is overcast, but he manages to navigate his way to the tower pointed out by the imp, slipping inside through a window and landing on the staircase. As instructed, Ashe goes up, nudging his snout between the ajar doors to open them further and allow him passage. 

It’s a simple bedroom, but still larger than anything he’s seen in Remire. Flames burn in the hearth and cast a glow in the otherwise dark room, illuminating a canopy bed, a small sitting area, and a hooded figure standing by the windows. Ashe takes an instinctive step back, but the stranger has already noticed their presence. 

“...Yuri?” The figure asks, voice deep, the dark cloak doing nothing to hide their broad shoulders. 

“Aw, you remember my name? What an honor for me.” The creature - Yuri - replies, tone dripping with sarcasm. 

The new stranger ignores his tone, looking down at Ashe instead. “So this is the one you were searching for.”

“He’s really not,” Yuri drawls, reaching a small hand over to pat Ashe on the head like an obedient pet. “I had my eyes on his friend, but she was whisked away, and he conveniently withstood the curse... So I guess he’ll be enough.”

The stranger lowers down to a crouch to be at eye level with Ashe, but their gaze isn’t on his face. “You were imprisoned?” A beat of silence and it’s heavy with guilt, somehow. “I am sorry. This would never have happened if...” 

“The poor thing has no idea where he is or what’s going on,” Yuri continues, either unaware of the stranger’s mood or not caring for it. It’s probably the latter. “Why don’t you tell him just what you managed to do, Abyssian Prince?” 

Abyssian? Prince? Ashe watches the stranger lower their head, strands of gold hair catching briefly on the light provided by the flames. “This was once the land of Faerghus, but that holy kingdom has been transformed by the queen that rules the darkness. It has been turned into a world of shadows, ruled by creatures who shun the light...”

The stranger, none other than King Dimitri Alexandre Blayddid himself, the very man Ashe was supposed to meet with Byleth, relays the events of the invasion, of being in the throne room of the royal castle when a black shroud filled the room like a sudden gust of wind, bringing with it creatures never seen before. He and his men fought against them as much as they could, but most were felled by the fowl beasts. 

It was only when he’d found himself surrounded that a woman strode into the room, long strawberry blonde hair falling over her shoulders and a circlet on her head. She smiled derisively and made a proposal with an air of nonchalance that had made his stomach turn cold while rage burned in his chest: surrender or die, a question for all the land and people of Faerghus. 

Between life and death for all his people, he’d chosen to surrender, allowing the darkness to descend upon the land. The woman took control of the kingdom and locked him in the tower, and now he’s biding his time and plotting to get his revenge.

Standing to his full height, the king lowers the hood of his cloak, revealing a handsome face, blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair. Just like Ashe had read in books, the king stands tall and with perfect posture, though the expression on his face is grim and serious, _angry_ around the edges. 

“Don’t look so sad,” Yuri says, and Ashe barely registers his voice, too stunned as he is looking at the _king_. “You’ll get used to it. Living in the shadows isn’t all that bad, you know.”

“This is no time for levity, Yuri.” Dimitri reprimands, and Yuri lifts off from Ashe’s back to float above them, unperturbed by the king’s firm tone. “These... These demonic beasts are searching high and low for you! Why is that?”

“You tell me,” he replies with a dismissive shrug, and Dimitri shuts his eyes at the imp’s indifference. There’s no time left to say anything anymore, for soon they hear the sounds of the guards approaching the prince’s chambers and they are forced to leave before they can be found. 

Outside on the castle roof, Yuri floats ahead, turning around to face Ashe, hands on his hips. “I take it you know where we are, yes?” His smile holds no sincerity in it. “A promise is a promise, so I guess I could take you back to where you first stumbled into this darkness... But are you sure you want to go? Aren’t you forgetting... Anyone special?”

How could he? Ashe can’t stop thinking about how terrified his siblings must be. And what of Byleth? Is she still with them? Is she safe?

“If you want, I could help you, but we’ll have to keep our little deal.” Yuri proposes, his smile turning a tad sharper. “What do you say? Want to think about it?”

* * *

Ashe doesn’t know how Yuri did it, but next thing he knows, he’s standing by the spring in the woods near Remire Village. The water is cool on his paws, and he lowers his head down to try and have a drink, recoiling when he catches a glimpse of himself. The same green eyes he’s seen in mirrors all these years stare back at him, only this time they’re in the body of a wolf. Grey, small, lithe. Ashe tries not to look at his reflection as he drinks. 

He figured it would be hard to go back to his normal body, and yet he had hoped that as soon as he was back to his little village, he’d be human again, his family would be here and it all would have been just a bad dream. 

Wishful thinking, really. 

As the sun begins to set again, he starts trekking back to the village to see how it’s fairing in the aftermath of the raiding. Fences are broken and crops are stomped over, some of the houses had their windows shattered by stones, and even the grass doesn’t look as bright and fresh anymore. 

He creeps along the shadows to take a closer look, halting when he spots Jeralt emerging from his home. His torso and head are bandaged, and he walks with a noticeable limp, but that doesn’t stop him from slowly, but steadily making his way to the path Ashe had followed to pursue his siblings and the bandit. He backtracks as Jeralt comes closer, darting into the woods as fast as his new legs can take him, only stopping when he reaches the spring. 

Dejected, Ashe sits half hidden in the bushes, laying his head on his front legs. Yuri has been quiet since they left the castle, and Ashe’s starting to feel a little lonely, a little hopeless, and too lost. His siblings are missing, the village is in poor condition, and Jeralt has been injured. The noise he makes sounds like a whine to his ears, and he curls into himself for comfort.

“Do not cry,” a disembodied voice hums, and Ashe whips his head up to search for it. The waters in the spring shimmer, and he rises to his paws to cautiously approach. 

The vague shape of a body begins to form, rising from the water like a magic spell, solidifying into the form of a young girl with pointed ears and hair tightly curled over her shoulders. Ashe can only watch in amazement as she opens green eyes and gives him a benevolent smile. In all the years he’s been here, he’s never seen her before. 

“I am one of the Four Saints that protect the land at the behest of the Goddess,” she introduces, offering him a bow. “I am Cethleann.” 

The Four Saints. Ashe’s heard stories about them before, but he’d thought they were just that: stories, legends told by the church. To think there is one who resides just a short distance away from Remire, living right under their noses all these years... 

“The entire kingdom has been subdued by the darkness,” Saint Cethleann continues, her expression crestfallen. “If it is not stopped, it is only a matter of time until the whole world will succumb to the shadows. Young man, I feel a strong power inside you. You have resisted the shadows, you are the one who can save this land.” 

She extends her hand, the long sleeve of her dress swaying as she gestures at the woods surrounding her spring. “My current powers are not enough to revert you to your original form, for I am still healing myself, but the Saint resting in Lake Teutates can aid you.” 

Giving him another smile, she adds, “I believe in you,” and bursts into droplets of water, raining down on the spring like a light summer shower. 

Ashe stumbles back, sitting down with a heavy thump on the mossy bank of the spring. Him? Save the land? True he’s always wanted to be a knight, a hero, but he’s no extraordinary fighter, he-

Yuri makes himself known right then, appearing from the ground as if he’s just split himself from Ashe’s own shadow, floating in front of his snout. “That was weird,” he comments lightly, looking at the now regular water of the spring, the same as it's always been. “Who would’ve thought one of the Saints would be here?”

With a shrug, he turns back to Ashe. “So, are you doing what she said? Are you going to try to save this land? You might find your friends along the way...”

Ashe closes his eyes and shakes his head. He knows that, and he also knows Yuri is bringing up his family to get Ashe to tag along and do his bidding. But what other choice does he have? Byleth is gone, the king himself is a captive in his own castle, Jeralt is injured, and one of the Saints just said he’s the one who can fix this, whatever this is. If not Ashe, then who else will dispel this darkness and rescue his family? Rescue the _kingdom?_

Yuri seems almost smug when Ashe picks himself up and trots over to the pathways that lead deeper into the woods, taking him far from Remire.

* * *

Lake Teutates is a good distance away from Remire, and it takes Ashe days to get there, his new legs propelling him forward faster than before. Along the way, he learns how to hunt in this new form to keep himself fed, and tries not to gag at the idea of eating uncooked meat. He would never do it in his human form.

Yuri travels on his back during the night and hides in his shadow during daylight hours, claiming that he feels more comfortable in the shade. Ashe wouldn’t know what to say to that even if he could speak. What even is Yuri? Is he another magical being like the Saints?

After days of running, they finally make it to Lake Teutates one morning. It’s early enough that the air is chilly and foggy, so Yuri makes himself comfortable on Ashe’s back as the latter navigates through the area, creeping along the mist to avoid any possible danger. Ashe may not be able to see well in the fog, but he can hear sounds coming from within the dense mist. At the end of a cobblestone path, they find a raised altar built in the middle of the lake, a figure standing in its center, a long feather peaking from their helm. 

“You have arrived,” they say, turning around to reveal an angular face and pinched brows. The frown eases some and the person offers them a slight upward curve of their lips. “I received word from Saint Cethleann that you would be coming. I am Saint Indech, the protector of this lake.” 

With no means to reply, Ashe lowers his head in submission, waiting for the Saint to continue. He keeps his eyes downcast, but he’s aware that Indech is appraising him.

“She did not inform me of your- ah, companion, however,” Indech notes, folding his hands behind his back. “No matter. I can return you to your original form, but sadly I do not have the means to truly break the curse. I suppose defeating the Queen of Darkness will free you from it. Now then, you will have to prove me your worth if you wish to continue on your journey and be the savior this kingdom needs.” 

Ashe swallows, nodding, and lifts his head again. His only sparring partners had been Byleth and occasionally Jeralt when they were teaching him how to wield weapons for self protection, and he’d never bested them. When facing off against his siblings, Ashe never went too hard on them as they were still learning. 

With a wave of Indech’s hand, the fog lifts on the raised altar, fire bursting to life on top of the four pillars at each corner of the area, illuminating the quiver of arrows and bow strapped to Indech’s back, the light of the flames gleaming off his helm.

Yuri moves away from Ashe when a black shroud forms around them, dissipating in a wisp of smoke to reveal Ashe back in his own body, dressed properly for combat in a long blue coat with leather armor over it, a bow in hand and quiver of arrows on his back. Indech nods and takes a few steps back, smiling at the panic that must be evident in Ashe’s eyes. 

“Be at ease,” he hums. “I will not have you fight a Saint to prove your worth. There are more interesting means of testing your skills and resolve.” Ashe nods, feeling immensely relieved. “Lake Teutates has been overrun by bandits who are in search of my treasure. Take them out without being detected, and I shall give you my treasure and directions to follow to save the land.”

“Yes, sir.” Ashe offers him another nod and watches as Indech shimmers out of existence, the flames flickering out with him. 

Yuri scoffs, floating just by Ashe’s shoulders. “Getting rid of those thieves should be easy for a Saint. He’s just making us do his dirty job.” 

“Yuri!” Ashe reprimands, fearing that Indech might find offense in it. When nothing happens for the following minute, which drags by in a tense silence, he turns to approach one end of the altar, crouching down behind a pillar.

Two vague shapes of bandits are on top of a ledge, picking at something placed there. A chest, if Ashe takes a guess, given that they _are_ here for Saint Indech’s treasure. 

“Do you think I have to incapacitate them? Or kill them?” He asks Yuri, pulling an arrow from the quiver and nocking it, closing an eye for better aim. 

Yuri shrugs unhelpfully. “What’s the point of sparing them? They might just go create trouble somewhere else. Besides, if you want to save this land and your little friends, you will have to take a life at some point.” 

He’s right, as much as Ashe hates to admit. He whispers a quiet apology and steadies his arm, holds his breath, and lets the arrow fly.

* * *

Ashe was successful in defeating all the bandits in the area, and there were more than he had expected. Once the last one fell, their bodies flickered out of existence like the small flame of a candle, and the fog lifted completely from the lake, revealing Indech’s form at the top of the altar again. 

He would like to believe the bandits were mere illusions, but the blood on the stone said otherwise. Indech has merely disposed of the corpses with a magic spell, and later on will make the red stains disappear too. 

The Saint gives his congratulations and gratitude, handing Ashe a glimmering silver bow, its shine so pure it appears holy. “You will need to improve your bowmanship before you can make use of this, I am afraid,” he warns, but Ashe takes it with a small _thank you_ anyway, accepting anything that will help him rescue his family. “It is powerful against beings of shadows.”

Indech points him in the direction of the Sreng Desert where he will go through a similar trial laid by Saint Macuil, and he will receive another item to help him in the quest to save the land if he is successful. He advises Ashe to keep practicing and growing, for the Queen of Darkness will be no easy feat to bring down, sacred weapons at his disposal or not. 

“I wish you good fortune on your journey,” Saint Indech says, dipping his head in a cordial nod. “May the Goddess Sothis smile upon you.” 

With the Saint gone, Ashe and Yuri take their leave, climbing down the steps and returning to the grassy banks of the shore. “Well, that wasn’t so hard,” Yuri says, observing as Ashe kneels down by the water and tugs off his new gloves, dropping them on the ground. “He even let you keep the other bow you used.” 

Ashe doesn’t say anything, only reaches into the water to scrub his hands clean, even if they’re already spotless. His throat feels tight and his eyes are burning, but he keeps himself in check just enough not to cry. Yuri, too, stays silent.

* * *

The Sreng Desert is far up north and travelling on foot would take them far too long, even if he were in his new wolf form... Hence why Yuri brings up an idea.

“Absolutely not,” Ashe immediately shoots it down, glaring at the imp who merely shrugs. 

“You can either steal the horse or take a whole month to get there,” he reasons, crossing one leg over the other. “It’s your call, country boy. I’m just saying, I don’t think your friends can wait that long and the owner seems rich. They won’t miss it.”

Ashe grits his teeth, nails biting into the palms of his hands. He hates how Yuri always seems to be right, even when his ideas are less than honorable. And he brings them up with such indifference, like stealing isn’t anything wrong. 

He’d sworn he wouldn’t do that again when they were taken in by the Eisners. Ashe swore he’d leave his past as a thief behind and work to earn his money honestly.

But Yuri has a point; his family can’t wait. Faerghus can’t wait. King Dimitri can’t wait.

Ashe hides behind an overgrown bush, observing a horse nibbling at the tall grass inside a fenced ranch. The owner doesn’t seem to be in sight. He gives Yuri a long suffering glance, to which he gets a grin in response, and sighs before darting towards the horse. 

* * *

Sreng is exactly as Ashe had expected a desert to be: sand as far as the eye can see, scorching hot sun, hot winds that seem to burn his face. 

From his shadow, Yuri has been complaining for the past hour about the heat. At least he’s hidden somewhere, Ashe thinks bitterly, his feet sinking into the soft sand and making the whole travel twice as long and exhausting. His only means to cool down is the hair tie he forgot around his wrist from the last time he worked at the forge, and he didn’t dare bring the horse here, leaving it behind on a grassy hill with a body of water close by where the weather was mild. 

He’s nearly running out of water himself, and he can only hope that he will come across a small lake or puddle soon. 

“Look.” Yuri emerges from his shadow to point ahead. A bundle of dark fabric ruffling in the dry wind, part of the shape buried under the granules of sand. 

Ashe approaches with caution, bow now in hand in case this turns out to be an ambush. The mere notion that someone would try to ambush a traveller in the desert is ridiculous, for very few people, if any, would wander here on the daily, but ever since the Queen rose to power, the number of bandit attacks has increased greatly. One can never be too cautious or prepared. 

Coming to a stop a few feet away from the indiscernible shape, Ashe lowers his weapon, staring silently at it. A body, a _corpse_. 

“This doesn’t bode well,” Yuri comments, lifting a brow. 

Ashe looks around, but finds no trace of anyone nearby. This isn’t an ambush. Perhaps this person died of thirst or because of the heat? Ashe voices as such. 

“Whatever it was, we should stay vigilant,” Yuri reasons, nodding at the weapon strapped to his back. “Take that sword.” 

“I’m not really great with swords,” Ashe admits, and Yuri sneers.

“We don’t have time to be picky. Take the damn sword. It’s best if you have a close range combat weapon in case something does go south.” 

Ashe does as told, offering the body a quiet prayer before unlatching the leather strap and taking the sword for himself. It’s heavier than the training swords Byleth taught him with, but he’ll adapt to it soon enough, he hopes. 

They continue moving for ten more minutes until they encounter another altar like the one in Lake Teutates, a pillar in each corner with flames burning bright even in broad daylight. A figure dressed in long dark robes stands there, their back turned to them. The tips of pointed ears are just barely visible, long green hair falling along the line of their spine in a tight braid. 

“How can they stand to be dressed like that in this place?” Yuri groans from where he’s partially hidden in Ashe’s shadow, and Ashe agrees with the sentiment. “Do you think that’s Saint Macuil?”

Only one way to find out, Ashe reasons, gathering some more energy to cross the last stretch of sand as quickly as he can. “Excuse me?” 

In the middle of the altar, the figure stiffens and slowly turns to face them. Unlike Indech, his serious expression doesn’t break into a slight smile, instead maintaining the deep frown that mars his forehead. The sun, high in the sky as it is, casts long shadows on his face. “That fool Indech should know better by now than to send humans my way. You are not even the Hero Chosen by the Goddess.” 

Ashe doesn’t know how to reply to that, so he lowers himself to one knee and bows his head. _Like a knight_ , he thinks; it should be enough to show respect in the presence of a Saint. “Sir, if you would-”

“I know what you want,” he cuts in, voice grave and deep. “Indech warned me. Personally, I could not care less about the fate of that little kingdom of humans, but I-”

Macuil stops, inhaling deeply when the wind changes directions, carrying Ashe’s scent towards him. His eyes narrow further, mere green slits shrouded in darkness, and his lips pull back to show abnormally sharp teeth as he roars, “You dare bring an Agarthan here!” 

Ashe scrambles to his feet, wide eyed, and Yuri lets out a small, “Oh no.” 

“After all you have done,” Macuil continues, gripping his head with hands that hadn’t been clawed a moment ago. “You dare show your face to me!” 

“What are you talking about?” Ashe yells, but Macuil isn’t listening anymore, contorting and writhing as feathers start growing along his arms, peeking from under the long sleeves of his robes. 

When the back of his robes are torn apart by a pair of wings that sprout out, spanned so wide it makes fear pool in Ashe’s stomach, Yuri finally barks an order, “Get ready for battle! Defeat him before he completes the transformation!” 

He has to fight a _saint?_ Ashe hesitates, paralysed under the loathing glare Macuil is giving him. He can’t just fight a saint. They’re the Children of the Goddess, protectors of the land, and much stronger than any human. Fighting a Saint in his current state would mean certain death. Ashe doubts that even Jeralt or Byleth would be successful, and he hasn’t improved enough to fight against sacred power over the span of the last weeks.

“If you’re going to die anyway,” Yuri begins, now fully out of the shadows and gathering magic in his hands, “you might as well go down with all you’ve got!” 

Ashe pulls the stolen sword from the scabbard, its weight foreign in his hands. He dashes forward as Macuil is still hunched into himself.

* * *

The last arrow pierces a near fully-transformed Macuil, now much larger than he’d been and more animal than human. Ashe falls to his knees, gasping for breath, bow and sword forgotten on the rough stone ground. Beside him, Yuri flops down as well, utterly spent and drained of magic.

It was a long and arduous battle, but they did it, somehow. They won. 

Byleth and Jeralt, Ashe thinks, would be proud. 

When Ashe lifts his head again, Macuil, back in his human form, is picking himself up from the ground, his robes intact and hair perfectly braided. He brushes a hand over the front of his outfit to smooth out the wrinkles, strangely calm after trying to kill them on the spot. 

“I can recognize when I have been bested,” he says at last, hiding his hands in the large sleeves of his robes. “I was defeated by someone who was not tasked with carrying out the will of the Goddess, and one who carries the blood of the Agarthans.” Macuil glares at Yuri as he says that, and the imp remains quiet. Good. Ashe doesn’t think he could face him in battle again so soon. “Perhaps I should not have underestimated you, boy.”

Still winded, Ashe can only nod his head at the recognition he was given. “T-Thank you.” 

Macuil scoffs and waves a hand at the space between them with a quiet chant. Two new items slowly materialize in front of Ashe and Yuri. One is a sword that gleams silver just like the bow Indech had given him, and the other vaguely resembles a pair of gauntlets, though much bigger, sharper and deadlier. Ashe winces as he takes in the three spikes protruding at the front, imagining what it must be like to be punched in the gut with these. Certain death, without a shadow of a doubt.

He doesn’t miss how Yuri’s eyes widen for just a fraction of a second at the sight. 

“You will need these.” Macuil sounds bored once again, or maybe he’s just tired of having them in his home. “That witch will not be brought down so easily.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Ashe pulls the weapons closer to his body, and Yuri immediately flits near to inspect them.

Macuil turns around and faces the vast expanse of the desert. “Saint Cichol is waiting for you in Rhodos Coast. And because you bested me, I will transport you out of this desert, boy. But never return here with that imp ever again.” 

Warm magic surrounds them, and Ashe voices his thanks once more before the spell sends them away.

* * *

“Yuri?” He asks later that night. They’ve set a small camp where Ashe had left his horse, which thankfully did not run away, and he fished in the body of water nearby for their dinner. The catch is roasting over the fire, unseasoned, and Ashe can’t wait to eat it and sleep like a log until the next morning. “What did he mean by that?”

“By what?” Yuri asks in return, and Ashe can’t help but frown at the imp. He hates it how Yuri plays dumb, always when he is concerned. 

“When he called you an Agarthan,” Ashe clarifies anyway and sits in silence waiting for an answer.

Yuri hums, disinterested. “Beats me.” 

* * *

They’re returning from Sreng when they pass by Fhirdiad, and Ashe stops and stares at the castle for two full minutes. It’s bigger than he’d imagined, blue banners with the symbol of the Royal Family stitched with silver thread, a knight riding atop griffin, swaying in the breeze.

In the time since the Queen of Darkness rose to power, smaller cities and villages have already been run over by poverty with thieves easily spotted everywhere and children looking for scraps in back alleys. Faerghus had never been a rich country, but this shift in power has hit the population as hard as difficult winters punctuated by poor harvests. It brings back memories of tougher times, and all Ashe wants to do is give what little money he has on him to the children he runs into. 

Fhirdiad seems to be holding strong, perhaps because it is close to the castle the Queen is occupying, but Ashe wonders how long this peacefulness will last.

“It’s best we go,” Yuri suggests. He hasn’t shown himself, still one with Ashe’s shadow. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can prevent these people from getting tangled in this mess too. Not that I care about the stuffy nobles, but the commoners will be the first to take the hit.”

He’s right. Ashe takes steps back, turning to leave, but stops when he catches a flash of blue hair in the crowd. “Byleth...?” 

Craning his neck, he tries to find her again to no avail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *strums guitar* country boy, i luv you aah hmmm
> 
> You've already made it this far, so I guess it's clear this isn't just me retelling my favorite game with FE characters kafhkajf I enjoy weaving two plots together in these kind of AUs, and making up my own stuff to keep things fresh and entertaining.
> 
> I estimate this will have around 5-6 chapters, maybe a little less. tbh I'm not quite sure, but we'll see how this goes after I take a break ajfhaj I've written Too Much these past weeks *wheeze*


	2. ii: dusk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Ashe's birthday overlaps with the day of the month when I posted the first chapter, I decided to publish this one earlier. I only had time to look it over once, though, so I'll come back to it and fix any weird wordings and typos in the future. In the meantime, please bear with them 💗

Somewhere in Duscur, they come across this deserted little village with simple buildings lining a lone street. Despite the precarious situation of the homes with broken windows and unhinged doors, the gardens are in full bloom, clearly well tended to. It mustn’t have been too long ago when the inhabitants fled... Or worse.

He doesn’t believe the latter is the case. The houses are in a state of disrepair, yes, but there aren’t any visible signs or struggle or a fight. If anything, he guesses the villagers fled before bandits tried to ransack the abandoned houses. What could have driven them away in the first place? 

Ashe dismounts his horse and takes it by the reins, dust kicking up with every step taken down the street. He doubts any of the villagers has stayed behind, but it doesn’t hurt to look. 

The creak of a door to his left catches his attention, making him pause. He turns in the direction of the sound at the same time someone shouts, “Ashe!” 

His heart kicks out in relief, the voice one he didn’t think he would hear again anytime soon. Ashe releases the reins of the horse to reunite with his siblings, both of which are running in his direction and kicking up more dust into the air. He pulls them into his arms in a tight hug, kissing the top of their heads noisily. Even if they complain when he does it in Remire, they let it slide this time, happy to be together again after being torn apart. 

“What happened?” Ashe pulls back and keeps them at an arm’s length, hands firmly planted on their shoulders as if the simple touch will keep them from disappearing again. Before they can answer, four people emerge from within the same house his siblings had been hidden in. 

A woman with light brown hair in a bob cut, a man with graying hair and mustache, a sleepy boy with long green hair, and a girl with pink hair and eyes. They don’t look like a family, but maybe he shouldn’t take things at face value. Ashe and his siblings don’t look anything like the Eisners, but still they’re a family.

Manuela, the older woman, introduces herself as a physician and a songstress. She’d been on her way to Fhirdiad to perform at the local opera when her carriage was attacked and she ended up here.

Hanneman and Linhardt, the older and younger men respectively, two scholars from a school in the Adrestian Empire, had been returning from a trip to Fhirdiad when they were both ambushed and also ended up in Duscur.

The young woman, Hilda, also went through something similar. She claims she was escorting the Prince from Almyra to Fhirdiad when they, too, were ambushed, but she got separated from him in the skirmish. 

Ashe feels inclined to help them, both out of the goodness of his heart and to repay their favor, as both Manuela and Hanneman took it upon themselves to watch over his siblings, and he resolves to do it by going after the lousy mercenary responsible from bringing them all to this place. 

He’s easily recognizable, the unkempt brown hair and his stout stature. Kostas, Ashe learns, the man who took off with his siblings whilst Byleth followed all those weeks ago in Remire. He and his band of mercenaries are camping in a dusty canyon not too far, and Ashe has enough experience with sneaking up on people that he can deal with them mostly undetected.

So much pain and worry for his family, and the man who separated them falls after a brief sword duel.

Ashe turns away from the fallen body and swallows, reminding himself that they could’ve gone after other people. He pillages their belongings and returns to the village.

* * *

Despite the relief of having found his siblings and having them sleeping not ten feet away from him, sleep doesn't come easy to Ashe that night.

The house they were hiding in offers them a few rooms for shelter. For the sake of everyone’s safety, they decided against splitting the group up to take other homes nearby, so Ashe volunteered to sleep in the living room, allowing the others to take the few beds in the building. Manuela and Hilda are sharing one of the bedrooms while Hanneman and Linhardt are in the other. Alec and Alice insisted on sleeping with him, and Ashe missed them too much to try to convince them otherwise.

Pushing the dusty blanket off his body, Ashe stands and tiptoes his way to the door. It creaks when opened, but his siblings merely stir in their makeshift beds and show no sign of waking. The moonlight illuminates his surroundings, and the air outside is cool and crisp, different from the warm breeze of this afternoon.

“It’s too late for you to not be in bed, country boy.” Yuri peels himself away from Ashe’s shadow, floating above the patch of flowers Ashe is inspecting. Whoever lived here took great care of them. He’s never seen any of these flowers anywhere around Remire or Gaspard, too.

“Are you worried for my well being?” Ashe shoots back, distracted by the plants. Their colors are a bit washed out and silvery under the moonlight, but they’re no less beautiful than they were in the afternoon. 

“Hah, more like worried you’ll fall asleep on your horse and make us late to meet with Saint Cichol, which we already are, if I may remind you.”

“You may not.” Ashe gives him a tight, humorless smile and turns back to the flowers. He’s utterly spent and would love nothing more than to sleep in peace now that he knows that at least his siblings are fine, but his mind can’t seem to slow down. On top of the last trial waiting for him in Rhodos Coast, he has to figure out what to do with his siblings and all the others stranded in this village. 

Perhaps he can take them to Fhirdiad? Ashe doesn’t know how he can pay for their stay in the big city, but it’s the closest safe place to here. And there is the possibility that Byleth is there...

“Ashe,” Yuri hisses, tugging on a lock of his hair to catch his attention. “Look over there.”

Normally, he would glare at Yuri or swat him away. The little imp does that often, tugs on Ashe’s hair as if he’s still trapped in that wolf form and he’s nothing more than a mount to Yuri, an animal or something beneath him. Ashe doesn’t know what it is that makes the imp so special, especially when he seems to depend on Ashe more than he depends on Yuri.

He lets it slide this time, if only because there’s a golden glow coming from a nearby patch of flowers. A wolf, he realizes with a jolt, jumping to his feet and instinctively reaching for a weapon - only to remember he unequipped them before bed and left them all inside the house.

“What’s it doing here?” Yuri whispers near his ear. Ashe looks sideways at him, then at the closed door of the house. Can he make it there in time?

Thinking better of it, Ashe shifts his weight slightly. It would be best not to take it close to the others; it’s too risky. Instead, he looks for other escape routes or hiding places. As if reading his train of thought, the wolf stands, tail flicking idly. “Go back inside, Yuri.”

“What?” Ashe winces at his tone, palms growing sweaty as the wolf lowers to a crouch, readying to attack. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Well, if the both of us die here, then we’ll never make it to the meeting with Saint Cichol,” he reasons, lifting his arms to shield his face. “Go back inside.” 

Yuri lingers, the weight of his stare on Ashe’s face, but he doesn’t turn to meet his lavender eyes. Reluctantly, Yuri slowly pulls away, disappearing into the shadows of the house. Once he’s gone from sight, the wolf moves, darting forward with a violent snarl. Ashe never deluded himself into thinking he could outrun the creature, so he braces himself and closes his eyes. 

It doesn’t hurt. The contact feels like a cold breeze, prickling his skin under his clothes, like the wolf was nothing but a cold gust of wind... Or a... Spectre... 

Heart in his throat, Ashe snaps his eyes open, turning around to try and find it. Is it a ghost? Did he just let himself be touched by a ghost? He shudders, rubbing his arms, his panic increasing when he finds himself standing in a foreign place. Snow at his feet, fog lowering the visibility, the vague shape of the royal castle far in the distance, its proud banners still swaying in the wind. An old fortress, the old Garreg Mach Monastery, sits atop the Oghma Mountains across from it. 

Ashe halts when he spots another figure standing in this strange location. Their armor glints silver in the cold moonlight, a long tattered cape falling behind them, fluttering in a breeze Ashe doesn’t feel and revealing a shield on their back and a sword by their hip. As the fog dissipates and Ashe can see better, he notices that the chestplate is vaguely shaped to resemble... Something.

The sight, in overall, should be nothing new to him, for Ashe has already run into two different figures that had just been... Standing there across from him. The thing that makes this one so different from Macuil and Indech is that, between the gaps of the silver chestplate, Ashe can’t see _anything_ . Not fabric, not skin, not bones; _there’s nothing there!_

Breath hitching, Ashe lifts his gaze to the person’s face and nearly jumps out of his skin. The face is skeletal, too! No lips or nose, just bared teeth, like a skull that had all the skin and meat decomposed from it. Two red orbs occupy the cavities of the eye sockets, glowing as it stares at him.

Ashe just _knows_ what this is. “G-Ghost!” His yelp is undignified, and in his panic to get away, he slips and falls on the snow in a mess of limbs. The figure continues to passively watch him, the armor rattling with each wheezy intake of breath. Is it even possible? Can it even _breathe_? 

Oh Goddess, _is it alive?_

A grunt comes from it, and Ashe flinches away. “Saint Cethleann may have appointed you as the one to save this land in the absence of the Hero Chosen by the Goddess... But your fear of ghosts brings shame to all of us. To me, more than anyone else.” 

The figure shifts its weight, lowering its head. Ashe imagines it would have closed its eyes in exasperation if it still had eyelids. “But then again, I imagine the Hero Chosen by the Goddess is not all that better than you. That girl... I do not know how she has survived this long, reckless as she is. I remember how she would lick rocks before skipping them on the surface of ponds, claiming it would make them go further.”

The memory is a familiar one. Blinking, Ashe rolls to a sitting position and picks himself up from the ground. “A-Are you talking about Byleth?”

“Yes, I am. And when the land actually needs the Goddess’s Chosen, she disappears.” The figure shakes its head with a wheezing sigh. “That is up to you, now. I saw your conviction, your pure heart, your deep admiration for the knights, and how much you value the codes of chivalry, so I have chosen to give you my blessing.” 

Ashe’s head spins for a moment. Byleth is the Hero Chosen by the Goddess? What does this mean? Is she... Is she the one who was meant to save Fhirdiad from the clutches of the Queen of Darkness, but missed the chance because she went after his siblings, and _he_ got thrown into this mess instead? Is Ashe just acting as her replacement, scrambling to fit in a role that was never meant for him?

That explains one thing or another, like why Yuri said he was looking for someone else but settled for Ashe because he withstood the curse. And the curse was to... Turn Ashe into a wolf? Or did he turn into a wolf because of this ghost's blessing?

Shaking his head as the questions begin to build up, he studies the ghost figure for a moment. “I’m sorry to ask this, sir, but... Who are you exactly?” 

The figure, too, carefully regards him for a few beats before speaking, “I am Kyphon, the sworn friend of Loog, the King of Lions.” 

Ashe’s feet slip again, but this time he catches himself in time and remains standing upright. He sees it now, recognizes all the signs he’d read in his many books: the griffin stitched in the torn fabric of the cape, the armor carefully crafted to resemble the face of a lion, the family crests of Fraldarius and Blaiddyd at the front of the tabbard. 

“You have read much about... My exploits, as I am aware,” Kyphon continues, “but we have no time to discuss such things. The time for our meeting to end has come.”

“W-Wait, Kyphon, sir-”

“My spirit has blessed yours, so know that I will be watching over you during your journey.” Kyphon nods to himself. “However, that alone will not be enough for you to be successful. A sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage. Remember those words...”

When Ashe opens his eyes again, he’s lying on the patch of flowers, alone on the deserted street of the little village.

* * *

“We’re late,” Yuri bites, hidden in the shadow at Ashe’s feet. “This was not part of our deal.”

“Yeah, well,” Ashe says nonchalantly and flicks his wrists to get the horse to trot just a bit faster, “I realized you depend on me more than I depend on you, so I guess I’m in charge now.”

“Ha!” Yuri’s head lifts from the shadow, lavender eyes narrowed and lips tugged in a smirk around the fang that usually pokes out his mouth. “How adorable of you to think you don’t need me. If it weren’t for my support, you’d have died at Macuil’s hands.” 

“If I remember correctly, he only attacked me because _you_ were there.” He returns the smirk, feels a bit of satisfaction when Yuri’s face contorts into a scowl.

“Ashe?” His sister calls from behind him. “Are you talking to someone?”

“Just thinking aloud,” he excuses and turns his eyes to the walls of the kingdom capital. 

Still torn on what to do with his siblings and their new colleagues, Ashe’s decision to take them somewhere was solidified when they found a wagon stationed behind one of the houses. It needed a bit of fixing, what with one of the wheels being broken, but it was nothing Ashe and his siblings couldn’t do on their own. With only one horse, the trip to the city would take a while, but it would still be faster and safer than going on foot. 

So back to Fhirdiad they went, trying to find shelter during the nights on other villages they passed. The money Kostas stole from them and other victims came in handy in those times, and nobody complained if they used it to buy warm foods and rent beds to sleep during the nights until they reached Fhirdiad. 

The capital of the kingdom still doesn’t show signs of struggle like the rest of Faerghus. Ashe and his companions weave through the streets of vendors and merchants, looking for a good place for them to stay the nights. The closer to the main plaza and the castle, the better the accommodations, but the prices are also higher. As much as Manuela, Hilda and Hanneman look at the buildings with longing, they can’t afford to stay here for more than two nights. 

The group ventures into back streets where the buildings are still in good condition, but are noticeably simpler. His siblings don’t seem to mind that the streets are getting quieter and emptier the more they walk, and while the others seem to be a bit hesitant to continue, they follow regardless.

Ashe goes into an alleyway and down a short series of stone steps, coming to an abrupt stop at a dead-end. In the small patio, familiar colorful flowers bloom, ones he’d seen just recently in the gardens of the little village in Duscur. There’s a door off to the side, a hanging wood sign that reads _Dedue’s Inn_ in a simple serif font. 

From the outside, it looks like a well maintained place. Ashe pushes the door to peek inside, finding the place to be rather simple, but clean and well taken care of. A counter separates the kitchen area from the rest of the room, circular tables with four chairs each placed around orderly. There’s a colorful patchwork curtain in the back, hiding the back of the room from sight, and a simple staircase leading to the floor above.

A redhead is pouring himself a drink behind the counter. In front of him, a blonde woman and a dark haired man sit on high stools, each nursing a drink of their own. 

“Excuse me,” Ashe calls, announcing his presence. “I would like to book a few rooms.” 

The dark haired man scoffs, turning back to his drink. “We’re closed.” 

“Now, now, Felix,” the redhead chides, leaving his drink on the counter to approach Ashe. “We may not know how to run an inn properly, but we can’t just shoo Dedue’s customers away. Hey, I’m Sylvain.” 

“I’m Ashe.” He takes Sylvain’s hand in a brief handshake and gestures at the others that are slowly streaming in. “They need a place to stay until we figure something out.”

“They?” Sylvain lifts an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you staying?”

“Sylvain, stop prying into strangers’ lives!” The blonde woman calls, frowning at him in exasperation, which only makes him laugh and raise his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, Ingrid.” He’s about to continue, but the sound of footsteps draw their attention to the staircase. Sylvain hums, “oh yeah, we already have a few... Odd customers on our hands.”

Ashe doesn’t think much of it - this is an inn, after all, even if they seem to be running it on the owner’s stead - but the black boots of the person heading down the stairs are familiar. Hope surges in his chest, his heart beating hard in anticipation, finally soaring when he sees blue eyes and choppy blue hair. Byleth, _Byleth._

He calls for her, and she stops at the foot of the stairs when he rushes in her direction, his siblings in tow. “Do I know you?”

Ashe stops short, a cold chill washing over him as if he’d just been doused with icy water at the peak of winter. For a minute, he thinks she’s just messing with him - Byleth loves a good prank more than anyone else - but he can only see genuine confusion in her eyes when she looks back at him. 

Behind him, Sylvain audibly winces and scratches his head. “Yeah... That’s one of our problems. The other one is that her friend is unconscious and feverish.”

“Feverish?” Manuela asks, stepping away from the door and further into the inn.

“She- Byleth, is it? She showed up here a few weeks ago carrying this man,” Ingrid explains as she stands from the stool. Felix remains seated, tuning them out as he continues to nurse his drink. “She said she found him injured on the side of the road. It looked like he’d been ambushed.”

“Ambushed?” Hilda pipes up, her pink eyes widening. “Does he have brown skin and hair? Was he wearing lots of gold and yellow?”

Ingrid frowns at her. “Actually, yes.”

“Claude is here!” Hilda brings her hands together, looking obviously relieved at the news. “Thank the Goddess! I thought I had lost him for good. I don’t even want to think about what could happen if he were still missing.”

“I’m glad he was found, but he still needs medical attention.” Manuela rolls up the sleeves of her luxurious fur coat. “Please, let me see him. I am a physician.”

Ingrid leads most of them upstairs, leaving behind only Ashe and his siblings, who watch forlornly as Byleth slowly turns to follow the others without saying anything else to them. Whatever happened must be serious if it managed to wipe her memory out. He hopes Manuela will look into it and figure it out.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Ashe shakes his head to clear it. He turns to his siblings and gives each one of them a tight hug, reluctant to let go. “Take care of each other. And look after Byleth.”

“You really aren’t staying?” Sylvain asks, drink now back in his hand. “I get it you have stuff to do, but you just arrived, and I’m sure the trip wasn’t easy.”

Ashe shakes his head. “I don’t have more time to spare.”

His siblings follow him outside, waving as he leaves the dead-end alley. Sylvain stands behind them, nodding at Ashe like a silent vow to keep them safe. They didn’t ask him about what he’s doing and where he’s going, though Ashe could tell that they were itching to know. As long as they stay together, though, everything should be fine on their end.

Ashe’s problem only got more complicated, though. The Hero Chosen by the Goddess lost her memories. His best friend, his _family_ , lost her memories.

For now, he can leave it in Manuela’s capable hands, but he will try to find a solution along the way, too.

* * *

Of the places they’ve seen so far, Rhodos Coast is by far the best. There’s sand, but it isn’t endless, the sun is warm but not too hot, there’s greenery behind their backs, and the gentle crash of waves on the shore. 

Ashe gives himself a moment to stare at the ocean, marvelled. He’d never seen the sea before, had never been to a beach. The most they did was swim in the river near Remire, or play in the spring in the warmer days.

His siblings would have loved it.

“This is beautiful,” he whispers, enraptured by the shades of blue and green that stretch infinitely, a far prettier sight than sand everywhere or endless fog.

“It is.” From his shadow, Yuri peeks his head out to glimpse at the sea. “But we’re not here to sightsee. There’s something that needs to be done.” Hard to forget that, with how hard he’s been pestering Ashe about it these past days.

Rhodos Coast is much closer to Lake Teutates than Sreng could ever be, and Ashe would wonder why Saint Indech sent him to meet with Macuil first rather than Cichol if the answer wasn’t so obvious already. Macuil clearly didn’t seem very patient or fond of humans at all (and apparently despised Yuri at first sight). Indech probably thought it would be best to test if Ashe could stand up to him first, see if he would crumble, like a bizarre, incredibly deadly way of weeding out the weak.

Saint Cichol’s altar is built a fair distance away from the shore. After debating for a while, Ashe discards his boots and weapons, slipping them into the magical pouches around his hips provided by Indech, and heads into the water, swimming to the altar the way Byleth taught him all those years ago.

Unlike the others, Saint Cichol is facing him when Ashe reaches the altar, pulling himself out of the sea and squeezing excess water out of his clothes. Cichol, too, is dressed in long robes, though there seems to be less layers compared to Macuil, and a long cape flows down his back. Dark green hair frames his face in waves, and a beard grows along his jawline. His expression is somewhere halfway between the other two Saints, not as welcoming as Indech’s, but not as severe as Macuil’s. It’s serious, nonetheless.

“Still looks like he’s got a stick up his-” Ashe interrupts Yuri’s murmur, pushing him back into the shadows with his foot before lowering himself to a kneel. 

Saint Cichol observes him in silence, hands folded behind his back like he’s considering an unruly child. “I heard you managed to defeat Macuil in combat,” he begins, looking at Ashe from down the bridge of his nose. He understands what Yuri meant, now. “While that was not the trial he should have laid out, it served its purpose. Congratulations.”

He doesn’t make it seem like the praise is very genuine, but Ashe will accept it anyway, because he _is_ proud of what he and Yuri did. “Thank you, sir.”

“You seem to carry a great power inside you.” Ashe thinks of the golden wolf, the spirit of Kyphon, and swallows. “Not one belonging to the Goddess, but one of a deity nonetheless, and that makes you special. I see now why Cethleann entrusted this to you.” When he says her name, Cichol smiles fondly, and Ashe recalls the scriptures that mention they are father and daughter. “Please, rise. It is time I present you to your trial.”

Ashe stands, limbs buzzing with nervousness. Cichol turns to face the ocean and gestures at its vast expanse. “I have hidden a relic at the bottom of the sea. I will grant you the means to breathe underwater, and your task is to find it.”

“Seems simple enough,” Yuri pipes up from the shadows, and Cichol looks down at him with an unreadable expression.

“It is meant to test your endurance rather than your skills. I see both my brothers have covered that already, Macuil more so than Indech, so there is no point in repeating it.” Cichol waves his hand, casting a spell upon Ashe. Nothing feels out of the ordinary. “You must not return until you have it in your possession. That is all.” 

He disappears in the constant seaside breeze, like a mirage taken away by the wind. Ashe jumps into the water again, moving his legs and arms so he stays afloat. 

“It can’t be that hard,” Yuri says again, hovering above his head. “He can’t have hidden it too far from here.”

Ashe wants to share in the sentiment, but his gut feeling tells him otherwise. Diving underwater, he opens his eyes and finds that he can see and breathe as if he weren’t submerged in salty liquid. He swims towards the bottom of the ocean with broad strokes of his arms, kicking out his legs for more speed. 

He stops near the seabed, taking in the beautiful, colorful coral that litters the sandy bank, the algae and small sea creatures, the bits and pieces of shipwrecks that have sunk down some indeterminable time ago. 

“I take it back,” Yuri says by his ear. “This won’t be easy at all.” 

* * *

By the time they make it back to the surface, Ashe has lost complete sense of time. The sun hangs low in the sky, close to the line of the horizon, but he’s too disoriented to care about the hour after being underwater for too long.

His legs hurt, his abdomen hurts more, and don’t even get him started on his arms. 

But he did it. Among all the nooks and crooks and sunken chests, he found the right one, a nondescript wooden box covered in barnacles and bits of corals. It held some sort of bracelet, or a fetter; it is the best way Ashe knows how to describe it. Yuri had nearly yelled that it was the relic they were looking for and Ashe trusted his judgement, taking it from the chest. It does look important, even if it doesn’t appear like a weapon at all.

Cichol is waiting for them at the shrine when they return, with Ashe’s fingers pruned and discolored. The dying sun on his back is welcomed, and the breeze is warm enough that it will hopefully help with drying his clothes. 

“Well done. You were certainly thorough in your search; I respect you for that.” Ashe smiles from where he’s kneeling on the ground, the relic safely tucked in one of the magical pouches. He needs a moment to rest and catch his breath, or maybe five. “Throughout these trials, you were tested for your strategy, skill, power, courage and endurance, and you prevailed. You are fit to continue with the journey.” 

Ashe pushes his wet hair away from his face and lifts himself off the ground, momentarily bracing his weight on his knees. “T-Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

Cichol nods, offering him a slight, fleeting smile. “In the absence of the Hero Chosen by the Goddess, I shall tell you a piece of our history. It has been lost to time, but it will give you some insight on the origins of the Queen of Darkness.” 

In the beginning, Cichol says, the Goddess Sothis descended to this land and gave it light and order, blessing the humans who lived here and helping them thrive. She created her Children from her blood, and for ages, all lived in harmony, content in body and mind.

However, as humanity continued to thrive, battles became more common as they clashed with Sothis and her Children, seeking dominion over the land. Among those that aspired for godhood and wished to conquer Fódlan were the Agarthans, a civilization that excelled in dark magic. Wielding powerful sorcery, they turned against the Goddess herself, ensuing in a war that devastated most of the land and caused the death of most of the Children of the Goddess. 

Sothis granted her blessing to a hero, marking them with the Crest of Flames and making them her champion. After granting them with a sword made out of her own bones, the Goddess shed her physical form and returned to the skies. The Hero defeated the Agarthans, which led to the collapse of the majority of that civilization, and those who survived were banished to another realm by the Four Saints, who were left behind to watch over the land in the Goddess’s stead. 

Saint Seiros arranged that the soul of the Chosen One would be reborn should the land need it, and put the Sword of the Creator to rest until the Chosen One was reborn when evil arose. The land entered another era of peace until it was disrupted recently by the Queen of Darkness.

Ashe thinks of the black barrier in the paths of the Oghma Mountains, how it had exploded when touched and transformed him into an animal. That had been unlike any other magic he heard of, not meant to simply harm or heal, but to change who or what he was. That must be the powerful sorcery Saint Cichol mentioned.

And the mark of the Crest of Flames? Ashe has admittedly never heard of it, but come to think of it, Byleth does have a strange mark on her sternum...

He considers telling the Saint about Byleth’s memory loss, but a sudden blinding light flashes to his right, like a lightning strike that missed them narrowly. Before the white dots can fade from his sight, there’s a low, sultry chuckle being carried their way by the ocean breeze. It makes his stomach flip unpleasantly. 

Opening his eyes, Ashe sees a woman that fits King Dimitri’s description of the Queen of Darkness: long strawberry blonde hair, and a luscious smile that doesn’t reach her cold, teal eyes. The circlet on her forehead gleams under the last rays of sunlight, made of gold and adorned with sparkling gems that match her eyes. 

“What a delightful story,” she purrs. The plumes of her outfit sway in the wind, almost making her seem harmless. “Please, little saint, enlighten me and tell me more.” 

Cichol sets his jaw, shifting his stance. “Cornelia...”

The Queen of Darkness, Cornelia, hums low in her throat. “Are you not going to indulge me? Hmm. Tell me, did your precious little daughter ever recover from the war?” 

Ashe thinks of the first Saint he met, Cethleann, looking younger than one would expect an ancient being to look like. He remembers how she said she couldn’t return him to his human form for she was still healing. This war, how long ago was it and just how much damage to the land had it really caused? 

More importantly, he notices the look in Cichol’s eyes, the dangerous, vengeful gleam, the curl of his top lip that reveals sharp teeth. The Saints... What are they, exactly?

In one moment, Cichol is glaring at Cornelia. In the next, he’s upon her, a silver spear in hand, shimmering like the bow Indech presented Ashe with. He moved so fast Ashe hadn’t even noticed, but Cornelia is unfazed by his speed and blocks him with a shielding spell she casts by lifting her hand. It knocks him back, and she quickly follows up with a dark spell that renders Cichol down to one knee. 

Cornelia regards him from down the bridge of her nose, the curve of her lips turning sinister and wicked. “Know your place, little saint.”

“You witch.” This time, the growl comes from Yuri, who flits ahead to face her. “You’ll pay for what you did!” 

Her smile shifts into something smug, though it doesn’t lose its dangerous edge, and she laughs. “Oh, that? Well, if I may say, that look suits you. Quite fitting for a big headed prince of-”

Ashe, in all these weeks since he’s known Yuri, has never seen him show any kind of anger. Exasperation, yes, though mostly what shone through was his snarkiness and flippant attitude, but now the little imp is shaking with rage, tiny hands curled into tight fists. The choppy, short ponytail elongates, morphs into something that mimics a fist, and rams into Cornelia, sending her staggering backwards a couple of steps. 

For a moment, Yuri is grinning triumphantly, eyes narrowed like he feels as if he’s properly avenged himself. Cornelia, however, straightens up a short amount of time later, though she visibly struggles to catch her breath. She let down her guard, underestimated him, and Yuri didn’t hold back.

“I thought placing a curse on you would be enough to keep you out of the way, but it seems I was mistaken.” She says, voice calm yet a touch breathless. “I might just have to kill you, after all.” 

Yuri tries to defend himself, casting a shield the same way she had, but her magic is stronger and breaks through the barrier. He’s flung backwards, flopping on the ground like a ragdoll tossed away by a child throwing a fit, and Ashe calls for him desperately, dread gripping his throat.

He’s the last one standing. Ashe pulls the sword from within one of the pouches, his wet hands slipping around the metal, but he adjusts his grip soon enough. 

“Aren’t you a cute one, little boy?” Cornelia muses, looking at him like she finds the sight adorable. “It’s just too bad you’re alive. The bandits I sent to your little village to kill your family were just completely useless. Although, perhaps they did serve me for something. I simply cannot sense the Crest of Flames anywhere! Maybe your sister is dead, after all.”

As she cackles, Ashe grips the sword tighter and glares at her. He can hear Cichol’s labored breathing somewhere behind him to his left, but he can’t hear anything coming from Yuri. He isn’t dead. He can’t be dead.

“I would be a fool to let you leave unscathed, especially now that I know the little princeling found someone else to help him.” Whatever mirth was on her face vanishes then, and she stares at him with an icy glare. “I will get you out of my way. And the princeling, too.” 

The blast of magic that hits him isn’t an unfamiliar one, fumes entering his nose and mouth as he gasps and feels his body shift, his bones change. Cornelia disappears the same way she came, in a flash of bright light, leaving behind a weakened Saint, an unmoving imp, and a light grey wolf. 

Now alone, Cichol sits on the floor of his shrine, eyes shut tightly. “I- I fear I cannot turn back your curse,” he says between gasps for breath, “but I can use what is left of my power to transport you to Fhirdiad. You must- you must go! The King is in danger, and so is your friend. He will know what to do.” 

As carefully as he can, Ashe moves Yuri closer to Cichol, who helps put the imp on his back. Yuri’s breathing is shallow, like he’s struggling to move his chest the bare minimum to fill his lungs. 

“May the Goddess Sothis smile upon you,” he says before sending them away.

* * *

It starts raining shortly after they land in the field, the kingdom capital a dark shape in the distance.

To Ashe, the rain feels like an omen.

He has to get to the King, but it’s hard to concentrate and think straight when he’s so aware that Yuri’s life may be slipping away with each passing second, and his only chance of survival rests on Ashe’s shoulders. 

Swallowing, Ashe gets his legs to start moving, carrying him towards the city. He will have to be careful and avoid whoever might be out at this time of the evening. It’s still early enough that the inhabitants might be walking about, and the last thing he needs now is for guards to notice him. 

The last time, he had Yuri to guide him. Ashe had been too lost and confused to really pay attention, but he has a general idea of what he did. All he has to do now is find a way into the sewers on the castle and from there he can work his way to the roof.

He’s ashamed to admit, but Ashe had never really considered that Yuri had also been affected by Cornelia in some way. Yuri had never properly introduced himself - and neither had Ashe, come to think of it - and they learned one another’s names through other people. Even so, Ashe is aware that Yuri knows more about him than he knows about Yuri. Yuri knows about his family, his hometown, some of his likes and dislikes; all that Ashe knows about Yuri is that he was looking for the relics given by the Saints and that he’s apparently connected to the Agarthans.

The Agarthans... Could it really be true that Yuri is from the same civilization that waged war against the Goddess? Could they really have survived that long? And Cornelia is part of that civilization, too. Do they know each other?

Ashe shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts and focusing on reaching the castle. He found his way to the sewers already, now it’s only a matter of finding an exit to the roof and locating the tower in which King Dimitri is being held prisoner. 

The rain is much harsher when he gets outside, the dark sky littered with those monstrous birds that have been scattered all over the kingdom recently. Ashe has fought many of them and other kinds of beasts in the past weeks, sometimes with Yuri’s help. He defeats as many as he can, but once his paws slip on the tiles and he nearly topples down to the ground below, he decides that it’s best to evade them if it means reaching Dimitri faster.

Inside the tower, it’s dark and cold, with only a sliver of light coming from the ajar door. The room, however, is much different than the last they’d been here. Curtains are torn and furniture is broken, the canopy of the bed dangling precariously above the mattress, some of its support pillars crushed to splinters. There is no fire in the hearth this time.

King Dimitri is just a dark shape standing by the windows again, the crest of the Royal Family displayed on the blue mantle that covers his broad back. He violently turns around when he hears Ashe enter, fists raised to attack, and visibly restrains himself when he sees who it is.

“It is you.” There’s an edge to his voice, a dangerous one, and Ashe takes an involuntary step back. “And... Yuri?”

With a wheezing breath, Yuri finally slips down Ashe’s back, falling on the ground with a pitiful thud. He continues to struggle to breathe, and he’s much paler now his colors washed out and faded. Ashe bumps his snout against his face, and the smile he receives from Yuri is more like a grimace. 

“Hey-” he chokes on a hiss if pain and turns heavy lidded eyes to the King. “You have to... Break the curse on this one... He is... The one who can save... Your land...”

“This curse is too strong for mere human magic to break,” Dimitri, now kneeling, reveals after assessing Ashe. “It would take the power of a deity or saint to break it.”

Yuri gasps, curling into himself. He’s in so much visible pain that it hurts Ashe to watch. “Well, he... Knows where to find one... You can make it there... On your own... Can’t you, little guy?”

Dimitri murmurs words under his breath, a bright sigil flashing in the space between them before he lowers his glowing hands to Yuri in an effort to heal him, but it becomes clear soon enough that it isn’t being effective at all. 

“I have... One last request...” Yuri blinks owlish at Dimitri. “Can you tell him... How to find... the Mirror of Abyss?”

Silence settles over them, broken only by the rain outside. It seems to stretch on infinitely, punctuated by the pitter-patter of raindrops on blue roof tiles. “Yuri... I believe I understand now just who and what you are. You are still putting your concern for our safety over your own well being, despite your mortal injuries. These dark times are a result of our actions, yet it is you who is paying the price for our choices.” 

King Dimitri exhales a steadying breath, the glow of his hands ceasing. Blue eyes turn from Yuri to Ashe, blonde eyebrows pinched in concern and concentration. “You must go to Garreg Mach Monastery at the top of the Oghma Mountains. There, you will find the sword of legend. You will need it to defeat Cornelia. Saint Seiros resides there; she will be able to break your curse.”

Carefully, he takes Yuri’s small hand in his own, clasped between both his palms. “Cornelia has ordered my execution, which is set to happen in the morning.” Closing his eyes, Dimitri whispers, “you will be of more help to him than I can be.” 

A glow lights up the room, bright and pure like snow, enveloping King Dimitri’s body. Wisps of light flit about him, travelling through joined hands to circle Yuri, whose small, weak form lifts off the ground to float above their heads. 

Yuri is confused for a moment, but one look at their hands is what it takes for his eyes to snap open. “No! Ashe, stop him! Now!” 

But it’s too late to stop what King Dimitri set in motion. His body becomes translucent, Yuri’s hand slipping from his own as his form eventually disappears, like fog under a bright morning sun, leaving no trace behind. Fully healed, Yuri stands on the ground as both of them watch the empty space where Dimitri once occupied, now vacant of his presence. 

“You’re an idiot, Dimitri,” Yuri says to the room, to someone who isn’t there anymore. There isn’t bite or heat to his words, just a weariness that seems unlike him. “Now I’m in your debt, too. I suppose I’ll have to see this through to repay you in kind.”

Yuri lets out a harsh exhale, turning and jumping upon Ashe’s back. “Let’s go to Garreg Mach.” 

With a soft kick to Ashe’s flanks, Yuri snaps him out of his stupor and gets him to move. Escaping the tower is a clumsy endeavour, and over the howling of the winds, Ashe catches the sound of Yuri sneezing once or twice. When he’s taking the final leap to reach the ground, Ashe stumbles as he lands, winded and exhausted.

“Right, you’d just gone through a trial.” It feels like it was days ago when Cichol had tested his resolve and endurance. Maybe it was; Ashe never found out how much time had passed. “We should rest. It’ll do us no good to leave the city so weakened.” 

It’s late enough now that Ashe doesn’t have to worry much about being quiet and stealthy. There are a few guards patrolling the streets and night workers in some spots, but the shadows cast by the torches are long and it’s easy enough to navigate through the city. If he does make a noise, people will brush it off as a stray cat or dog.

He finds familiar patches of flowers and a dry spot nearby under the extension of the roof. Ashe flops down on it, weary to the bone, and Yuri stands by his side, sneezing once more. “Ugh, you smell like a wet dog.”

Ashe is too tired to care if he smells like a wet dog or an arrangement of fragrant roses. He simply closes his eyes and sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth: *clearly is supposed to be Link in this verse*  
> Also Byleth: *loses her memories like Ilia*
> 
> Cornelia taunting Yuri was taken from cutscene in Hyrule Warriors. I just. Love Cia so damn much. 
> 
> I knoow I said the story of the Goddess took place in all of Fódlan, but here's the reason why the Saints are mostly in Faerghus: I needed it to be like that asfjhakjha I'm serious, but also, it made sense to me that they would all settle near or in Kingdom territory because of Faerghus's history with the Church. Not to mention some locations that are important to the Saints are in that area too. 
> 
> Flayn plays the role of the spirit Ordona, since Remire is not a part of the Kingdom, the same way Ordon isn't a part of Hyrule (it's a province, though that doesn't really apply here).
> 
> And finally, since I am weaving two plots together, please consider that there are smaller deities within each nation. Let's say Sothis equates to the Golden Goddesses, Seiros is Hylia, the Saints are the Light Spirits, and Kyphon (along with other unnamed figures) are more like the great fairies or smaller deities, although Kyphon here clearly plays the part of the Hero's Shade (which he isn't really a deity, but rather a manifestation of OoT Link's regrets, but since Ashe isn't related to any of the Elite 10, Kyphon is now a deity rather than an ancestor). Whew. 
> 
> Thank you to anyone who took the time to read the first chapter! I hope it was enjoyable, and I hope you'll like this one as well 💗

**Author's Note:**

> | [yuriashe playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0OfM6V57iDzm6EU5URAXdC?si=-1h-RuptSsCWP9RvIpmO9g) | [tumblr](https://chininiris.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/chininiris) | [carrd](https://chininiris.carrd.com/) |


End file.
